How Many Did You Take?
by Hbrook shipping for life
Summary: Mike comes home to find that Jeremy has done the unthinkable. Can things be undone before it's too late?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One:

Mike groaned at his own thoughts as he put his keys in the ignition. Everything was fine, and he needed to get to work before he was late. Still, his mind had other plans. It was running circles in on itself. Sighing, he turned the keys. The engine purred, and he put the car into drive. He looked out the back window as he backed out, and he took one last look at the mundane college dorm complex before he drove out. It was only seven in the morning, but the roads were already mildly busy, and the sun was barely peeking up over the horizon.

He just couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong with his roommate, Jeremy. It wasn't necessarily like Mike to worry, or to overthink a situation. Jeremy had always been able to do that enough for the both of them, but the kid had been acting strange this morning. Mike couldn't tell if it was because something was really right, or really wrong.

Mike wondered if Jeremy's psychologist had him trying anymore new medicines again, but it didn't seem likely. Mike shook his head, and tried to redirect his thoughts.

Right now, he was on his way to Burger King. He was going to attempt to earn some cash to help pay off his already accumulating college debt. He was counting on a better education so that he would never have to work with hungry assholes, nor ever have to experience anything like that pizzeria nightmare ever again. He still couldn't believe that he wasn't able to win a successful lawsuit from that.

Mike reached up and adjusted his rear-view mirror so that he could see himself as he crossed a simple cross-street. His reflection frowned at him, and he took a deep sigh. He couldn't gather his thoughts f-

A car flew past him, missing the bumper of his car by mere centimeters. Mike's brakes screeched in protest at the sudden stop, and he slammed the palm of his hand into the horn. Mike let out a string if curses. His heart was pounding so hard that he could hear it clearly against his ear drums. Mike sucked in a breath, held it a couple of seconds, and let it out.

He wanted to give a peace of his mind to the jerk who took it to heart to try and blow the front end of his car off, but he was already gone. Mike let out another line of curses.

Just then, under the pressure if his anger burnt skin and wildly thumping heart, Mike remembered that he had forgotten to take his blood pressure pills.

"Dammit," he breathed, "Fuck."

Mike turned his car around, and started his way back to his dorm. He tried to bring his heart rate down, but he wasn't doing it fast enough. He cussed again, dreading a lethal condition. He was on the road for God's sake! Couldn't his heart wait until he got home?

Mike drove a little further over the speed limit than he should have, but he didn't care. In the time that didn't at all feel quick enough, he finally pulled into the parking lot. Yanking the keys out of the ignition, he pushed the door opened, stepped out, and slammed it shut.

Mike stepped into the building, then into an elevator. He tried to calmly press the button to the third floor, but he was pretty sure that he clicked it way to quickly for it to be considered "calm". Soft elevator music replaced the silence. As the elevator went up, it stopped at the second floor to let in a couple of people. He didn't say anything to them.

Mike crossed his arms, and started anxiously tapping his foot.

Reaching the third floor, the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Mike walked forward, and took a left. he found his room number, and knocked on the door. He waited a moment and knocked again. There was still no answer.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two:

Mike fumbled for his keys, finding them hiding in one of his pockets, and unlocked the door. He opened it, and walked in, shutting it behind himself.

"Jeremy, it's just me. Where are you?"

There was no response. Mike considered that he might have left, but he didn't humor the idea just yet. He proceeded into the living room where mummering from the TV was audible. he looked around at the small basic set up. One couch, one living table, one coffee table with a lamp perched on it, one reclining chair, and one TV across from it all. There was simple carpeting that they both hated, and a light on the ceiling. But there were no pills.

Mike groaned. He didn't remember where he had put them last.

Cutting through all of this, in a strait line from the entrance, there was a kitchen space. Then, to the left of that there was a door that led to the bedroom and bathroom. Mike picked up a remote from the living table, and cut the TV off. He then tossed it at the couch, where it landed safely on one of the cushions.

"Jeremy," He called out again. "Jeremy, come on. Where the hell are you?"

Mike was starting to feel inpatient. What was he doing? He knew that he wouldn't have left yet. He always left for work about a whole forty five minutes after he did. Something cold trickled down Mike's spine, and it seemed to spread throughout his body. Things weren't okay.

Mike stepped into the Kitchen, and he immediately spotted them. They were lying lazily next to the sink, and he snatched them up, wondering how he ever missed them this morning. He twisted open the cap, and popped a capsule into his mouth. Mike ran the sink, and used his hand to shovel a handful of water into his mouth. With a large gulp, he swallowed it down, and just knowing that he had taken the pill helped him calm down.

Mike shut the water off, and wiped his mouth.

"Jeremy," he tried again, "Jeremy, are you here?"

And again, there was no answer.

Mike made his way through the room urgently, and entered the bedroom. It was dark and empty. It was clean and the two twin beds on the opposite sides of the room from each other laid untouched. That wasn't right either. Jeremy always took a short nap after he left. Losing slight feeling in his fingers, Mike approached the bathroom door. He held his breath as he knocked lightly.

For a second, there wasn't any noise, but it didn't take long for him to get a reply.

"Y-yes?"

Mike let out a breath of relief. It was Jeremy's voice.

"Jeremy, why didn't you say anything when I came in?" Mike had his hand on the doorknob, but he hadn't turned it yet. "Is something wrong?"

"N-no, ev-ery-thing's-s f-fi-ine," Jeremy hiccuped and then sucked in air.

Mike's eyebrows furrowed as he began to turn the doorknob. "I'm coming in."

"N-no, don't-!"

But Mike had already walked in. He saw Jeremy standing there by the sink, face soaked, and eyes red. He looked terrible.

"M-mike, I told y-yo-u not t-o" he hiccuped again. "co-ome i-n!"

"Jeremy-" but he wasn't able to finish his sentence.

Jeremy's eyes shot over to a pill bottle on the counter, and Mike's followed.

"Shit," the word fell right out from underneath his breath. "Shit, Jeremy, no-"

He reached out to grab the bottle, and Jeremy tried to get it, too, but Mike got it first. He had hoped that he would find it full, but his heart fell into his stomach, like a stone into water. It was a weightless bottle of sleeping pills; it didn't rattle when he moved it; it was completely empty. There wasn't a single pill in the bottom of that bottle.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three:

Mike immediately scanned the room for anything that he could use to gag Jeremy, but he didn't see anything. He felt himself slipping into panic, and he clenched his fists. This caused his nails to dig into the palm of his free hand. He used the sensation as a weight to keep him from going into complete state of unhelpfulness. He wouldn't be able to do anything if he was losing his head.

"Kid," he looked Jeremy in the eyes. "Did you take these?"

An expression of conflict and pure horror settled into Jeremy's face. The tears had stopped for a moment, but he didn't say anything.

"Kid- Jeremy-, I need to know. Did you take these pills?"

Jeremy looked away, and wiped his face. He hiccuped and sniffled before he said, "Yes…"

It was a quiet, almost inaudible confession, but it was all Mike needed to hear before he felt his breakfast trying to come back up. He forced it to stay down. He grabbed Jeremy's arm and started to drag him to the kitchen.

"M-Mike, wh-hat ar-e you d-doin-g!?" Jeremy stuttered. He weakly tried to tug his arm out of Mike's grasp, but he kept dragging him.

They went through the bedroom, and when they entered the kitchen, Mike abruptly dropped Jeremy's arm. Mike didn't bother to look back to see if Jeremy was still there. He was certain that he was standing there, watching, trying to calculate what he was going to do next.

Mike grabbed the pitcher of salt that was lying on the counter, and an empty glass that had been sitting beside it as he turned the sink on. Holding the cup unter the running water, he felt that he couldn't get it to run fast enough. Once the glass was half full, Mike switched off the water, and poured streams of salt into it.

By the time he had gotten this done, his hands were quivering. He clenched the side of the counter with his empty hand, and he shook his head. Jeremy had taken every single pill in that bottle. He could die. Mike's throat tightened, and his sight became blurry.

He was just a kid.

Mike abruptly turned around. His eyes met Jeremy's, and Jeremy forced his to focus on the ground. The kid stood in the same way a guilting dog would after a scolding. Mike gripped the glass tighter in his hand, and approached him.

"Drink this," He couldn't even recognize his own voice. It was somewhere between angry and shaken. It was broken and firm… He couldn't remember the last time he had head it like that.

Jeremy didn't look up. He kept his gaze locked on the floor, and started crying again.

"I'm s-sorry," he stammered as he covered his eyes. He coughed a couple of times and shook his head, "I'm s-s-o sorry, M-Mike."

"We can be sorry later!" He bursted, his voice cracking at the end, "but now, you need to drink this!"

Jeremy still didn't answer him, and Mike thought he might throw up again.

"Look- please! Just drink it, okay?" Mike lightly pressed the glass into Jeremy's chest.

He looked up at him, and took the glass into his hand. His face was a mix of several emotions, but the newest one being confusion.

"Wh-what is this going t-to do?" He asked waterily, then hiccuped.

"Just chug it, i-t'll help," Mike insisted.

The kid hesitated for a second before he dumped the whole thing down his throat. It didn't even take milliseconds before his face contorted. He up hunched over, spilling his stomach contents out onto the floor.

"Jesus Christ," he managed through coughs. "What the hell… I guess I should have expected that-"

"How many pills did you take?"

"Wh-what?"

Mike looked down at the result of Jeremy's vomit, and counted thirteen white pills sitting in a shallow pool of liquid. He blinked a couple of times, and recounted the pills in disbelieving confusion. Hadn't there been more than thirteen pills in that bottle?

"How many," he looked into the shaking glass cup, "How many pills did you take?"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four:

Mike forced himself not to say it again. He forced the words to stay down in attempt to let Jeremy actually speak, but Jeremy didn't say anything. Looking up from the glass, Mike asked again, a little more forcefully.

"I-... I."

"Jeremy," his blurry vision became a little clearer, and his welled up tears bubbled over, "I need you to tell me how many you took!"

"Fifty."

The word had come out so suddenly, so coherently, that it winded him like a punch to the stomach. Jeremy took one look at his expression, and dissolved back into sobs and apologies.

Mike stumbled back into the counter. He could hardly feel his body. The salt water trick wasn't going to work fast enough. Mike groped his pants in search for his phone, and his heart skipped a beat when he found it. He snathced it out, and fumbled with the keypad. The black font sitting inside its white background was hard to read through his muddy vision.

He blinked rapidly, and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. It didn't help much, but he could see the keys a little better. He stumbled to press the right ones, hitting 511, 119, and 6111, before finally punching in 911. The phone rang once, then twice, and someone answered.

"Hello, this is 911. What is your emergency?"

Somehow, hearing that unfamiliar, disembodied voice say that one phrase, the same one he had heard so dully on TV a million times before, made this situation painfully more real than if had been just moments ago.

Mike's breath was locked inside his chest, and his heart was thumping in stange, irregular motions. He looked up at Jeremy, who was now sitting down on the sofa not too far away, still crying.

"Hello?"

Mike's attention snapped back to the voice on the phone.

"I- sh-shit," He was having trouble seeing again.

"Sir, what's your emergency?"

"M-my friend. He… he tried to kill himself…" Mike swallowed in attempt to loosen his throat; to clear the gravel out of his voice, but it didn't work.

"What's your location?"

"He… he swallowed fifty pills. I-I couldn't get him to cough it all up…" He pulled in a shaky breath, and ran a hand over his face.

"You tried to gag him?-"

"Do I need to try again?" His voice broke off several times, and he was actually surprised that the woman was able to make out what he had said.

"No! Sir, can you please give me your location? I need you to tell me, so I can alert emergency dispatchers."

" (random) University. Third floor, room 302."

"Emergency dispatchers are on their way. Do you want me to stay with you until they arrive?"

"What do I do?" He asked, looking back up at Jeremy.

"The best thing you can do is to wait for the emergency dispatchers to get there-"

He hung up.

"God damnit." He whispered. "God damnit."

Right now, Mike was relying on the counter to hold him up more than ever, and he couldn't help but to wonder if he was going to be able stay conscious. He shook his head, and took a deep breath. He couldn't pass out. He needed to be awake right now.

Mike looked back up at Jeremy, and his heart pulsed so hard that it knocked him in the throat. The sight that met him made him jump, and hurried over towards his roomate. He was leaning back into the couch, relaxed, and drowsy.

"No kid, you can't go to sleep." Mike said as he grabbed Jeremy's arm. "You have to stay up."

" I won't," He insisted groggily," I'm just… I'm just… really… really tired."

Mike's heart sunk, and he didn't know what to do. Jeremy looked like he could fall asleep at any moment, and Mike knew that if he fell asleep, he wasn't waking back up.

"Come on, stand up," Mike said as he pulled lightly on Jeremy's arm, causing him to stand up unsteadily.

"I… don't want to... stand up."

"I know, but you have to stay awake. Just walk around some."

"When I finish," He paused, but continued, "Then can I sit down?"

Mike shook his head as he tried to swallow his tension, but it had formed an unmoving knot in his throat. "No, just walk in circles."

"I… can't… I'm too tired…" He replied miserably.

"Yes you can," Mike blurted, his tears spilling out again. "Please, kid. J-just until the doctors get

here." He wiped his eyes on his sleeve, and sniffled in attempt to keep his snot in his nose. "Please."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five:

Jeremy stood up, but it looked like it took him a lot of effort. He stood unevenly, and hardly looked like he could stay upright. He started walking around the living room. Mike could see that Jeremy was trying his best to walk steadily, but he looked as if he were trying to maintain balance on a wobbling floor.

Mike could only watch in complete helplessness. If Jeremy fell unconscious before the paramedics got here, he didn't know what he would do. Would there even be anything that he could do? His heartbeat was beating rough and fast. He vaguely wondered if his blood pressure medicine would be enough to keep him alive through this situation, and the thought was enough to steal the wight from his head.

He didn't have have time to process these thoughts too much, because when Jeremy walked by him, he didn't make it by him. His feet gave out, and he leaned into Mike.

"I… can't see very well…" He tried to look up at Mike, but his eyes looked unfocused.

Mike's heart screeched to a stop, and his lungs seemed to disappear. His stomach flipped, and his skin froze over with goosebumps. He couldn't even blink. The sound of knocking on the shattered his mind, and he looked up at it.

"We're the paramedics," a voice called. " We had a call about an emergency."

"It's unlocked," Jeremy said just loudly enough for the people to hear.

The door opened, and two men came in with a stretcher. Mike's mind slipped back into working condition.

"Can you help him?" He blurted panickly, "He took a bottle of pills- I can't keep him awake-"

The first paramedic took Jeremy, and started securing him to the stretcher, while the other one attempted to reassure Mike. When Jeremy was secured to the stretcher, a parametic told him that he couldn't ride in the ambulance because he might get in the way of any procedures that they might have to go through. He told Mike to meet them at the hospital, instead.

The whole encounter had happened in such a quick, vague manor, that he wondered if he was dreaming, or hallucinating the whole thing. Despite this thought, he still took off for the car. The Paramedics took the elevator, and Mike took the stars. He made it to the lobby, and even to his vehicall before the medics, and it made him even more apprehensive.

By the time he had connected his seatbelt, and turned the key into the ignition, he was hit by a wall of emotions. The second it hit him, his vision swam. He felt his body reactivate; air sharply flooded his lungs, and blood overflowed his chest. All of this was overwhelming, and there was so much, that some of it seemed to spill out of his eyes. He leaned his head on the steering wheel. This just couldn't be happening, he thought as he fought to push air out of his lungs. It just couldn't.

But is was.

Air was entering and exiting him in sharp, penetrative breaths, each one giving him too much, yet too little air. He couldn't tell if he was suffocating, or choking. Looking up from the wheel, he saw the ambulance pull out.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six:

Mike was sitting in the waiting room at the hospital, tapping his foot nervously. He kept glancing at his watch every fifteen seconds, agitated by how slow it was moving. They wouldn't let him see Jeremy yet, and he started to wonder if he would even get to see Jeremy at all. The doctors assured him that the kid would probably be fine… probably…

His head was in his hands now. He was trying to sooth the dull throbbing in his head, but the harder he tried, the worse it got. Just when the dull throbbing became sharp pounding, he heard a voice call his name.

"Mike Schmitz?"

He winced before looking up in that direction. The tall nurse behind the counter had been the one to say it.

"Mike Schmitz?" She repeated, scanning the room, looking for someone to respond.

He got up from his chair, and walked toward the counter. "That would be me."

The woman examined him for a moment as if taking something in, and then said, "The doctor said you can see," she looked down at her paper. "Jeremy Fitzgerald. Is that right?"

"Yes."

"Right this way."

She led him through a set of doors, and a mostly plain, white hallway, with the exception of some equipment and a couple of employees. Hospitals had always creeped him out, but he didn't really have too much focus to think about it with. She stopped and pointed to a door. Room fifteen.

"That would be the one." She said.

Mike mumbled a quick thanks, and went in. The room was small, white, and mostly empty. It felt just as eerie, and uncomfortable as the rest of the building, but he ignored it. There was an IV, heart monitor, a chair, and beside that, a bed. And on the bed, there was Jeremy. Laying there. Awake. There were other things in the room, too, but Mike hadn't really had the time to look at them yet. All that he could see was that Jeremy was awake, and My God, the weight of thousands of pounds of thick, heavy atmosphere just vanished.

He was awake. He was actually _alive._

Mike continued to walk in, and seated himself in the seat next to the hospital bed. Jeremy looked at him, and sat up. He didn't say anything. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then again, what exactly could he say?

"Jeremy, you scared the shit out of me."

Jeremy looked down at the thin, cotton sheets laying over his lap. He looked guilty, and he looked like he was ready to break. The air became just as fragile as the sight. Jeremy's eyebrows were somewhat knitted together, and his breathing was off. Mike hesitated, wondering if it would be a good idea, before reaching out and grabbing his hand.

"I thought you said things have been better since you've been seeing your physiatrist."

Tears started running down Jeremy's face, and Mike's heart throbbed. It was like watching a car accident as a powerless bystander. He didn't know what he should do. He didn't know what he should say.

"She told me to do it." Said Jeremy. The sentence was dejected and strained.

"What!?"

" Sh-she told me to do it- she said I was hopeless-" Jeremy's tears came down harder, and he pulled his hand away from Mike's to wipe his face. "Sh-she told me 'maybe some people just were not meant for living.' and that I would 'just be better off' if I 'gave up.'"

Mike was shocked. He couldn't react. Nothing in his body would even allow him to think about reacting. Something inside of him had broken; something had stopped working. His mind had, to some extent, shut down. He felt numb, and his throat was raw.

"Shit-" The breathless word hadn't come from Mike, or Jeremy.

Mike looked up at the entrance of the room to see a tall, lean male with short, dark hair, dark eyes, and impossibly pale skin; out of breath, and clenching his side.

"Jeremy, holy fucking shit- I got here as fast as I could!" The stranger spat.

Jeremy, looking up at the man, looked like he couldn't believe, or didn't want to believe that he was there. "... Zack…?"

The name rung familiar to Mike's ears. He remembered Jeremy mentioning it a couple of times. Zack was a close friend of his.


End file.
